


His World Outside

by GoldenEmolga



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Five Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenEmolga/pseuds/GoldenEmolga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren's been stuck as a titan for years now.  Despite everyone else losing hope, his best friend never gave up on bringing him home.  =)</p>
            </blockquote>





	His World Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! My first canon-verse SNK fic! Why did it take me so long to write a story about the beautiful world that they actually live it? =)
> 
> Also, I decided to try a different writing style. Comments, questions, and kudos always welcome. Thank you. =)

               What’s happening?  The darkness is receding.  I can’t see it happening because there is still black as far as I can see, but I can feel it.  I can feel something, or someone, pulling me from the darkness.  But why?  This is my home.  This is how I live.  This is all I know, all I’d ever known.  This is my everything.  Why would anyone want to take it from me?

               No.  I won’t let it.

               Now I’m fighting.  Kicking and punching and screaming.  Or is it called roaring?  Scratching, clawing, and biting.

               “Er—  Ere—”

               Why isn’t it working?  Why is it still trying to disturb me?  Why is it still trying to rip me from my home, my shelter, my comfort?  What is it?  Who is it?  And what does it want from me.

               “—en!  Hey!  Jae—”

               I’ll just have to be more direct.  My limbs feel foreign to me, but there’s still sensation in them.  Barely.  I’ll grab it.  I’ll grab it and tear it apart.  I’ll tell it to leave me alone.  I’ll make it leave me alone.  I want to be alone.

               “Jae—  Jae— ger!!!”

               Whatever is holding me is determined.  It won’t let go.  No matter how much I kick and punch and scratch it.  Why won’t it let go?  Maybe I shouldn’t be forcing it to let go.  Maybe I should just eat it.  Then it won’t be able to bother me anymore.  Here.  I’ve got its arm now, I think.  The one that had been wrapped around my chest.  Well, now it’s not around my chest.  Now it’s in my mouth.  And I’m biting.  Hard.  And tasting the juicy flesh.  The warm blood is a nice touch too.

               “Eren!”

               Is it trying to communicate with me?  Is it trying to get my attention?  Maybe it wants me to stop.  Maybe I’m hurting it.  But I don’t really care.  It’s hurting me.  It’s taking everything from me.  Or trying to.  But I won’t let it.

               “Eren!  Jaeger!”

               I’m reaching for its other arm, since the one I just tasted is now limp against my body.  If I just finish off this arm, it won’t be able to hold me anymore.  It won’t be able to disturb me anymore.  And so I’m grabbing the other arm, the one with its fingers woven into my hair.  But now, it too is in my mouth.  And I’m biting again.  And tasting the sweet flesh and blood.  Whatever, or whoever, this is tastes delicious.  Absolutely delicious.  And oh so familiar.

               “Eren!  Eren, stop!”

               So delicious, in fact, that I think I’ll eat some more.  I think I’ll eat the rest.  I’m suddenly feeling very hungry.  I don’t remember eating anything lately.  I don’t remember eating anything for years, actually.  This intruder will be a nice treat.  It owes me for the disruption, after all.  Surely it won’t mind me finishing it off.  It’s only fair.

               “Eren!  No!”

               I’ve got it pinned under me.  It feels about my size.  Maybe a little smaller, actually.  It had been so determined before I started eating its arms.  I guess it gave up.  Maybe it realized how unfair it was being to me.  Maybe it realized that it was easier to just accept its fate.  Now all I have to do is bite its neck, right here—

               “Eren!!!”

               No. That doesn’t feel like flesh.  This doesn’t taste like flesh.  It’s too plush.  It isn’t smooth.  What happened?  It had tasted so good a moment ago.  What is this?  What does it have around its neck?  Did it know I was going to try to finish it off there?  Is it smart enough to foresee this and protect its neck by making it less appealing?  It worked.  I lost my appetite. 

               “Eren?”

               Well, I’ll just take it back to my home, my shelter, my comfort.  I’ll keep it there until my appetite returns.  Then I’ll eat it.  But before I bring it into my home, I want to know what it is.  What is this thing?  It moved.  It moved with purpose.  It tasted like it was made of flesh.  Except for its neck.  What is its neck made of?  I’m reaching for it again, feeling it with my semi-numb fingertips since I still can’t see.  It feels like…

               “Eren…?”

               A scarf.  Her scarf.

               Wait. What’s a scarf?  And why do I think it belongs to a girl.  Is this thing a girl?  Do I know her? 

               “Eren…?  Are you okay…?  Are you okay now…?”

               But the voice.  The one ringing in my ears.  It sounds like a male.  It sounds like a strong, confident male.  And its voice hasn’t changed since I started eating it.  It doesn’t seem phased at all by my teeth.  It doesn’t sound hurt or distressed at all.

               Wait. Then why is this thing under me trembling? 

               “Eren, let go.  We’re here to help you.”

               Oh. I see.  This thing that I’ve been snacking on isn’t the same thing that’s talking to me.  Someone else is here.  And he’s been watching everything.  I’m intrigued that he hasn’t interfered.  Maybe this thing under me doesn’t mean much to him.  Maybe he wanted to see what I was going to do to it.  Maybe I should show him.  Maybe I should eat it here after all. 

               “Eren, are you back with us yet?  Can you understand me?”

               The man is annoying me by implying that I am too dumb to understand him.  Once I’m through with this thing under me, I’ll eat him next.  I’ll eat him slowly, to make sure he suffers.

               “Yeah.  He seems to be calming down.”

               Is that man talking to yet another thing?  How many of them came to disturb me?  Well, at least I’ll be eating well for days.  I hope they don’t struggle too much.

               “Commander, please let me restrain him now.  You’re losing too much blood.”

               Commander?  I know that word.  A commander is someone in charge.  Pretty high up, in fact.  Why is the thing under me shaking its head?  Wait.  Does this mean the thing I’ve been nibbling on is this group’s leader?  Their commander?  I’ve been eating their commander?  What an entertaining sight this must be for all of its subordinates.  I guess someone’s getting a promotion.

               “Eren really is a monster…”

               “How could he do that to someone he used to care so much about?”

               “Why are we wasting time and manpower on a beast?”

               “Let’s just slice his nape.”

               “He’s wide open.”

               “I doubt he can transform back yet.”

               There have been lots of people here the whole time.  I just haven’t heard them.  Why couldn’t I hear them?  Why have I been so focused on this thing underneath me?  Why is it the only thing that matters?

               No.

               No. This this isn’t the only thing that matters.  This thing has been trying to take me away from the only thing that matters:  my home.  This thing is my enemy.  This thing is nothing to me. 

               Then why?  Why does it taste so familiar?  Why does its flesh feel so welcoming?  Why can’t I bring my teeth, the ones currently resting against its finally-exposed neck, to close?  Why can’t I finish it off?

               I know it.  I know this thing.  Does it know me?  Were we once friends, me and the scarfed thing under me?

               I remember the scarf.  I remember the outline of the face the scarf rested underneath.  I remember the black hair that used to cover parts of the scarf when it moved.  I remember the girl who always wore it.  I can almost see her in my mind and picture her beneath me now, weak from blood loss.  But what is her name?  Why can’t I remember it? 

               “Bring the rope.  Fast.  I don’t trust him.”

               These people want to take me away from here.  These people want to take me away from my home.  And yet, I might let them, just to remember her name.  Why do I feel like something is missing now, something I wasn’t aware that I was missing before?  Why does the fact that I can’t remember her name bother me so much?  And is it just her?  Or…

               “Quick!  The commander’s in bad shape!”

               Let me try to open my eyes.  Let me try to see her.  Maybe seeing her will remind me.  Maybe I’ll remember her name if I see her face.  I’m trying.  I’m trying to open my eyes, but the light is too bright.  Even so, I can see her.  And she’s gorgeous.

               Wait.

               No.

               This isn’t her.

               This isn’t her at all.  This isn’t even a “her.”  It’s a boy.  It’s hard to tell much about him because the light is too bright.  Yet, for some reason, this intensely bright filter seems to suit him though.  It makes his golden hair seem even more radiant than it probably is.  It makes the brilliant blue of his tear-filled eyes seem even more luminous.  It makes to patches of red, red blood look even more gruesome against his pale, pale skin.

               And yet, despite all the pain he must be feeling, he’s smiling.  This little boy is smiling and crying tears of joy.  Why?  Does he want to be eaten?  Does he want to die?  Or did he want to find me?  Did he want to find me, no matter what?

               I watch his piercing blue eyes roll back in his head just before a flurry of ropes and hands have me tied up and gagged.  I’ve been captured.  I’m being taken away from my dark, safe world.  And yet, as I watch a tall, brunet with a stupid-looking undercut tend to the smaller, blond boy, I can’t bring myself to care about being taken away from my home, my shelter, my comfort.  All I can bring myself to do is ponder why I feel like I know these two and why I feel like I already know how I feel about each of them.  I’m trying and trying to come up with some explanation for my immediate feelings, but I can’t.  Maybe tasting the boy’s flesh had some weird influence on me, though it feels like there’s more to it than that.

               They’re leading me away now, in some sort of carriage.  And all I can think about is how I feel about those two boys I don’t remember anything about:

               I hate the brunet, as if he were my older brother, always picking fights and trying to outdo me.

               But I love the blond, as if he were my younger brother, always there and, perhaps, loyal to a fault.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh... I already have 3 other stories going. Why did I start a new one? Oh yeah. I told my friend that I would. =)


End file.
